To Save A Life
by Chicago Silence
Summary: The setting is Germany, World War II. Survive if you can.
1. Chapter 1

Heroes

**A/N: For all my lovely girls.**

"When will you return?" Her enchanting voice was laced with worry; her green eyes shining with unshed tears as she intertwined their fingers.

"In due time, love," the man murmured, brushing back long brown curls from the beautiful woman's face.

"Write to me," she whispered, "Every week. I'll wait for you."

"I will, Rosie," he said with a smile, lightly pressing his lips against Rosie's, pouring his love into that farewell kiss, just in case he didn't return from this war.

Rosie returned the kiss, her eyes fluttering shut, "I love-" Misha Pavlov's eyes shot open at the sound of a tank firing into the distance. The Russian sat up in his makeshift bed, his brown eyes blood shot as he ran his finger over his lips, as if his dream had been real and he had actually been able to kiss Rosie once more.

"Too much Vodka before bed, Misha," he chided himself, pushing the thin excuse of a blanket off of his figure as he slowly got to his feet. The twenty-six year old Russian pilot had been out on the front for a while now, and was no stranger to what seemed like the nonstop fighting. He opened the entrance to his tent, placing his fur hat on and whistling for his Black Russian Terrier, Vlad, who barked in greeting.

Misha lightly stroked the huge dog, a bottle of Vodka in his other hand as he watched bombs light the sky. The Americans and Canadians were currently raiding a German trench, taking supplies and prisoners in order to secure the hill their own trench was on.

"We not needed this time, Vlad," he murmured in rough English to the dog before taking a long drink of his Vodka, "Perhaps this shall be over soon. We can return to Moscow with a grand welcome. With lots of Vodka. Lots and lots of Vodka," he rambled with a shake of his head.

He glanced around the camp he was settled in, watching other Russian soldiers get ready for a raid. Misha knew only a couple of soldiers from other countries. His orders were to move to the American encampment as reinforcements for the soldiers there. The Russian sighed, "Sidet'," he murmured to Vlad, patting the dog's head as it obediently sat down.

The pilot gathered his things together, glancing back over at the airfield behind him then at the sky, where Canadian planes were flying overhead. He watched them fly towards where the raid was going on, tilting his head a bit out of curiosity for what was going on. "The German scum will die, yes, Vlad?" The dog growled and barked as if replying to Misha's question. Misha laughed, "Khoroshii mal'chik," he praised the animal, placing his helmet on before heading out to his plane.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o

"Zieht Euch zuruck! Zieht Euch zuruk!" The German Captain's cry of "Fall back" sounded down the German line.

Alaric Kulechow was never a fan of retreating. Why retreat and face punishment for losing this trench when one could just die an honorable death? Nevertheless, the second-in-command threw one last grenade at the advancing Canadian and American soldiers. He then scrambled out of the over-run trench and ran after his comrades. Alaric could hear the victory cheer from the enemy, and he narrowed his eyes in anger, cursing the entire way back to the base.

When the battered army returned, the Captain was immediately requested by the Generals. Alaric couldn't help but give a wince of sympathy for the poor man. He'd be a lowly Private when, or if, Alaric mentally corrected himself, the man returned.

The German soldier sat down, removing his helmet and wiping the dirt from his face. He blew out some air, lighting a cigarette as he watched the medics begin to tend to the fatal injuries. Most of the wounded soldiers would be deemed "unable" and would be left to die from their injuries or the infection that would quickly follow the untended wound.

Alaric pressed a hand to his arm, where he had a long slash from a knife. A Canadian soldier had jumped him as he had been throwing a grenade at an advancing tank. Alaric was no fool; he had easily overtaken his enemy, killing the soldier that looked no more than a boy.

He allowed a medic to roughly patch up his arm, and he idly stared at the sky. Everything would have been much easier if he had just obeyed his parents and been a good, smart student who stayed out of trouble. Perhaps he would never have met Gabriele. Alaric shook his head, grumbling to himself to stop thinking such things. He was doing this for his country and for his family's name. Jews were rats and needed to be purged from Germany. But Gabriele was no rat.

The man angrily threw the cigarette he had been smoking, standing up and grabbing his gun. Damn Hitler. Damn him to Hell. Alaric will never forget the look on his girlfriend's face when he ordered her onto the train with her family. The look of hurt, unbridled fear, and betrayal in her eyes would haunt him for years to come. Alaric closed his eyes, trying to remember the beauty of her smile instead of those last heart wrenching moments.

He was snapped from his reverie when he heard the yell of a German commander. Alaric gave a quick nod and hailed Hitler before he placed his helmet back on. The second-in-command shook his new Commanding officer's, Ulrich's, hand.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bloody Hell. The Queen 'erself betta come out and thank us all for fighting in this damn war," the eighteen year old British soldier grumbled to himself as he wiped away the copious amount of mud on his boots. His freckled face was etched in a scowl, all the while still mumbling about the mud.

Stephan Niels never wanted to join the army. His whole life had easily been planned out. He'd marry a nice girl, have lots of sons, and own a farm out in the British countryside. _That worked out great, didn't it?_ He thought to himself, finally managing to clean his shoes off as he sat down, laying his gun across his lap. He ran a hand through his dark red hair, putting the other up to shield his dark blue eyes from the sun as he looked across the landscape.

The Private yawned, dully noting that it was eight in the morning. Of course he got picked for first watch. As if there was anything _to_ watch. All he could see were trees to the west and a ransacked German trench to the east.

Stephan sighed and rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists, closing his eyes and listening to the daily chatter of the soldiers: the loud-mouthed Americans, the calm Canadians, the boisterous Russians, and the grumbling Brits. Listening was something Stephan was good at. His hearing sense had always been sharp, which is why he was probably usually on watch duty.

He picked at his breakfast, which consisted of hard bread and…whatever else was on his plate. Stephan didn't even know what to call it. He made a face and dumped it over the side of the watch tower, watching the brown mush slide down his chipped plate and onto…another soldier. _Bollucks_. His eyes widened and he straightened up, tossing the plate over the opposite side of the tower. He whistled an old British tune, managing to keep a straight face as he heard cursing coming from the Canadian Private he had accidentally dumped the mush on.

Stephan made a mental note to retrieve the chipped plate later as he finally released the laughter he had been holding in. He idly thought about his parents, and actually looked forward to going home. Okay. That was a lie. He did not want to even think about returning. The "disgrace" he brought upon his family had gotten him kicked out of the house sent into the British army. Apparently, if he came home alive and with a medal of honor, his parents would grace him with their love, adoration, and kindness. Was it worth it? "'Ell no" as Stephan would put it.

Private Niels got to his feet, checking the ammo in his gun almost clumsily. He knew he was ready for whatever the Germans would throw at him; ready to prove himself worthy to his parents. But the real truth was that he was a boy playing a man's game. And no one was in control.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o

_My name is Draco Heisenburg. I'm nineteen years old and a German...what was it again? What's my rank? Oh, screw it._ He took a deep breath and continued his mental rambling, _I'm nineteen years old and a German soldier. We're fighting for our country and to….for….the…well fuck. What was it we were fighting for?_

Truth was, Draco had no clue what he was doing.

Here he was. Sitting in camp and watching the wounded soldiers return from the Trenches. He caught sight of his friend, Alaric, a soldier he had been with since he had first joined. Draco thought about going and checking on him, but the second-in-command didn't look like he wanted to be bothered.

The nineteen year old orphan felt alone as usual. Most of the soldiers found him boyish and probably had bets on when he would be killed due to his naivety. But Draco Heisenburg wasn't that boring. Oh no. He had a secret. Draco was not a fan of women. He actually preferred the complete opposite. If his secret was spilled, surely he would be shot on the spot.

Homosexuality was not an acceptable thing at the time. People were herded off into Concentration Camps by the Germans if they were homosexual. It was not natural. But did Draco know about the concentration camps? About the murders of all those Jewish families? Not a clue.

Draco eagerly got to his feet when his name was called for a patrol. He'd prove himself to these German generals that he was a great German…P…what was it again?


	3. Chapter 3

"So there I was: standing on top of a German tank as bullets and grenades rained on me from every fucking direction! I knew I was only going to have a little bit of time, so I popped open the entrance to the tank and dropped a bag of grenades in. Needless to say, those German faggots ate shrapnel before they died."

The young brown haired green eyed American Corporal bowed as he finished his story, flashing a radiant smile to his group of listeners who applauded. He jumped off of the jeep he had been using as his "podium", immediately lighting a cigarette.

"Leo, why you always tell bullshit stories? Back in Russia, bullshit stories means no right hand," Misha called over to the American as he idly cleaned his gun.

"Bullshit stories? Come off it, Misha. That shit was real!" Leonardo Vanders grinned widely at his Russian friend, blowing out some smoke from the cigarette. The Corporal was only twenty-one years old, and most would say he was too young to hold such a responsibility that came along with being Corporal. But Leo was a strategist. He knew what to do during a situation and had always managed to find a way out of the worst of worsts with his entire team. He cared a lot for people, though he may not show it at first, and he had a way of reading people.

"Dey say in Russia dat lies grow bigger and bigger, you bastard Yank," Misha's tone was playful and friendly as he glanced over at Leo.

"Well we ain't in Russia, Mishamigo. So pull your head outta the Vodka bottle and notice our surroundings, sound good?" Leo stomped on the cigarette he had been smoking, picking up his helmet and placing it back onto his head.

Corporal Vanders wasn't a fan of being in the army. He just followed what his family had planned out for him ever since he was born. His great grandfather fought in the civil war. His grandfather and his very own father had fought in World War I. It was only _natural_ that Leo would join the army and fight in whatever war came up next. Unfortunately for him, the United States was dragged into World War II thanks to Japan. Leo vowed to never have another piece of sushi for as long as he lived.

Ever since his girlfriend dumped him, all because he enlisted into the army, Leo really didn't care if he came out of this war alive. All he knew was that he wanted to rescue the Jews from the Concentration camps and make sure that his comrades came out of this war in one piece. His newest orders were to hold down the trench at the top of this hill. He had a Private Niels joining his team, and two Canadians as well, a Corporal and Private.

Leo reloaded his gun, his green gaze studying the deserted and broken city, or half of a city, that was about a mile out. Beyond that destroyed city was a German base camp. The Corporal let out a sigh before frowning as he heard a gunshot echo through the war torn city. A small smile crossed his young face as he realized that some German idiot just gave away their position. "Yahtzee."

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o

Draco shifted uncomfortably, lying against a broken cobblestone wall as he waited alongside Alaric and Ulrich, a German commander he had just met. He sighed, tugging at the collar of his uniform as he eagerly awaited this raid. It only consisted of the three of them since their mission was to get in, grab ammo and supplies, and get out undetected.

The young man glanced up at Alaric, who was checking the ammo in his gun before looking out and around the deserted streets. Draco cleared his throat, "Alaric? Any sign of enemies?" he asked, managing to keep his voice strong.

Alaric gave a slight shake of his head, giving Draco a small encouraging smile since he could practically see the nervousness radiating off the nineteen year old.

Commander Ulrich was mumbling to himself a bit as he waited for a clear straight away to the enemy's trench. He was a fidgety man, and when a stray dog wandered out into the streets, well, Ulrich's natural reaction was to shoot the damn beast. And that's exactly what he did. The commander raised his gun and shot the dog in the head, grinning all the while.

Alaric, however, was not as enthused. "Commander!" he hissed, "You could've given away our position!"

Draco blinked, a small smile of amusement crossing his handsome face, "You'd think he was trying to get us killed," he said teasingly to Alaric.

The second-in-command couldn't help but smirk, "Suicidal bastard, this one is," he joked, glancing at Ulrich before peeking up and over the broken wall, trying to see if any enemy soldiers had indeed heard the shot. Unfortunately for the Germans, the enemy had indeed had.

Leonardo strolled down the broken street, Misha a bit behind him as well as a couple of British troops he had rallied up for a quick patrol.

"Come out come out wherever you are!" The corporal called out, smirking and smoking a cigarette. God how he hated Nazis. "Gelben bellied Schwein! Zeigt euch!" He taunted obnoxiously, keeping his gun up as he rounded each and every corner.

Draco's blood boiled at the sound of the annoying American. "Can we kill them?" he asked, gritting his teeth in anger.

Ulrich shook his head, getting to his feet, "Verdammt!" he cursed, grabbing his gun and firing immediately at the small patrol as it came into view. Alaric and Draco followed suit, firing also at Leonardo's small team.

Leo jerked back against the wall as bullets came flying at them. Misha was laughing and firing back in response, yelling something in Russian to Leo, who had no idea what the fuck his crazy drunk Russian friend was saying. Leo just smiled and nodded, turning and returning fire to the three Germans.

Ulrich cursed, "There's too many! We need to return back to base, now," he ordered, standing up and running back the way they came.

Draco scrambled to his feet, returning fire to the Allies before helping Alaric up. Alaric tossed a grenade at the enemy patrol, his bomb hitting its mark as usual. He then shoved Draco in front of him, snapping at him to run after Ulrich. The second-in-command fired a couple more shots before running after Draco.

Leo cursed as a grenade went off near him, and he scowled in dismay as he saw two British Privates missing some limbs. He ordered Misha to follow him as he took off after the three retreating Germans, firing blindly at them.

Alaric could hear the bullets whizzing past his ears, and he flinched and ducked, covering his head before growling and firing back at whoever was chasing him. He yelped as one of the American's bullets hit his leg, and Alaric crashed to the ground with a groan.

Draco's eyes widened and he hurried back to Alaric, sitting his comrade up and trying to get him to stand, "Alaric, get up! We need to get the fuck out of here!" he begged, sounding desperate.

Alaric shoved Draco away, "Nein! Get out of here! I can't run; I'll just slow you and Ulrich down."

The nineteen year old shook his head stubbornly, grabbing onto Alaric once more, "We don't leave anyone behind."

Ulrich moved to pick Alaric up, freezing as he heard the cocking of a gun. The German commander looked up to see a Yank and a Russian, the Yank's gun directed straight at the head of Draco.

"Don't move. Or I'll blow the kid's head off."


	4. Chapter 4

Ulrich's heart sank. He had failed Alaric and Draco. He had failed the _mission_. The Nazi commander was actually scared for once in his life. Scared of what kind of discipline he'd receive when he got back to the base. He froze in his movements, not wanting to even risk Draco getting hurt. The kid was too young.

Draco swallowed a bit in fear, also not making any sudden movements. His gaze flickered onto the young face of the American soldier, then to the taller Russian soldier a couple feet behind him. The boy slowly put his hands up after a quick order from the American. Draco couldn't help but flash glances at Alaric, checking to make sure his friend was still there.

Alaric let out a hiss of pain, awkwardly trying to lift his hands up when all he wanted to do was put pressure on his gunshot wound. He bit his lip to keep from making another noise, glancing up and at Draco to calm the younger man down.

Leo kept his gun trained on Draco, since it was painfully obvious that the two older Nazi's were eager to protect him. "On your feet with your hands behind your head. Now." He watched as the one wounded man attempted to get up, his leg obviously giving him troubles. The American Corporal was not a patient man. He pulled the trigger after aiming at the youngest German's shoulder.

Draco cried out in pain, his hands flying from behind his head to clutch his shoulder. Ulrich cursed, moving to go forward and check if Draco was okay.

Leonardo reloaded his gun, "That was just a warning. Next time I'll kill him. Now put your hands behind your head."

Ulrich sneered a bit before doing as he was told, having a small staring contest with the burly Russian behind Leonardo. Misha smiled in return, "You son of bitches keep quiet, yes?"

Alaric lightly tested a hand on Draco's shoulders, "You okay?"

Misha came up behind Alaric, pushing him away from Draco, "No talk," he growled.

Leo shoved Draco into the front, "Gehen," he ordered, using what little German he knew to talk to them and tell them to walk.

Draco stumbled a bit, keeping his hands above his head. It took quite a lot of effort since his shoulder felt like it was on fire. He was nearly shaking in nervousness. He didn't want to die. Not yet. Wait, what was he saying? He would die honorably. Yeah, thats it. That sounds like what he's supposed to be thinking.

Leo slammed the butt of his gun between Alaric's shoulder blades when the German second in command stumbled due to his wounded leg.

"Get your ass up," the American sneered.

Ulrich looked like he wanted to stab Leo, and the only think that was keeping him from jumping the Corporal was the huge Russian that had a gun pointed to his head. The commander cursed at Leo in German, which in turn got him smacked over the head by Misha.

"I say no talk. Damn German, why you no listen?" Misha continued to ramble in Russian while placing his barrel to Ulrich's back as he and Leo led the three captive Germans into their trench.

Leo grabbed some rope, tying each their hands together before shoving them to their knees in a small room built into the wall of the trench. "All right. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Misha rolled his eyes, "You wait long time to use that line, hmm?"

Leo scowled at Misha, huffing since it was true. He had always wanted to say that to a prisoner. The corporal turned back to Alaric, Draco, and Ulrich, lighting a cigarette before standing in front of Alaric. "Name," he ordered, since Leonardo was a bit of a control freak. Being in charge made him happy.

Alaric hesitated for a moment before just smirking and snarling something in German.

"Lie," Ulrich hissed to Alaric, keeping his voice quiet. Draco had no idea what to do. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he glanced around the small enclosure.

Leo was getting pissed. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth before forcing open Alaric's mouth, shoving the cigarette in before closing it and placing his hand over the German's mouth, not allowing him to spit it out or cough, "I'm going to ask you one more time. Your names. Now."

Alaric tried to jerk away, the ashes burning against his tongue as they fell down his throat.

Leo contemplated on making the German swallow it before just removing his hand from Alaric's mouth, "I'm going to ask you again. Your names."

Alaric coughed out the cigarette, somewhat gasping for air as he attempted to gather together what little English he knew, "I Sebastian. This is Ulger and Dominic."

"Sebastian, Commander Ulger, and Private Dominic. Sure, sure." Leo glanced at Misha, who grinned and whistled for Vlad. The big dog ran in, growling and snarling at the German prisoners.

Draco's eyes widened in fear, "Alaric, don't tell anything to them," he pleaded in German to his friend, not knowing that he had just given away Alaric's real name. A rookie mistake made by the rookie himself.

Ulrich's heart sank. Poor Draco was just a boy fighting to fight.

Leo smiled, "Alaric? That's no German word I've ever heard of." He crouched down to Alaric's level, "So if you're Alaric, and not Sebastian, then these two can't be Commander Ulger and Private Dominic. Misha, if you will?"

Misha gave a hearty laugh, murmuring in Russian to the gigantic black beast beside him. Vlad barked and shot forward, sinking his large fangs into Draco's leg.

Draco let out a high pitched scream, trying to get his leg away from the ripping and tearing jaws of the Russian Terrier.

Leonardo was completely calm, staring patiently at the panick stricken face of the Nazi second in command, "Alaric, one more time. Names."

Ulrich was kicking at the Russian Terrier's head, cursing all the while. "Nein, Alaric!"

"Commander Ulrich and Private Draco!" Alaric blurted, his shoulders sagging in relief as the dog released Draco's leg, moving back obediently to Misha's side.

The American Corporal smiled, "See? Was that so fucking difficult?"

Alaric felt like an idiot and a failure. He had sentenced his comrades to death since he had gotten shot in the leg. Now he had just given up their names. Could he do anything else wrong today?

Draco was breathing hard, closing his eyes and letting out a small whine of pain. Ulrich looked defeated. Alaric had failed them. And now, he, the commander, would take the blame.

Misha looked out the entrance of their enclosure, hearing some fights going on between an American and a Brit. The Russian cursed as he saw a young Private he had met earlier in the middle of the scuffle. "Son of bitch. Private Niels no listen to me. Why no one listen to Misha, Vlad?" He walked out with a shake of his head.

Leo watched Misha go, loading three shots into his pistol, "Well. We were told not to take any prisoners, and I'm too goddamn tired to escort you to the POW camps so you're just going to die right here and right now in this hell hole."

"Leo!" Misha's burly voice echoed in their small room, "I can use help here!"

The American sighed, grumbling and storming out after Misha. Meanwhile, Ulrich had untied his own hands, easily sliding them off of his wrists. The Nazi stood up, grabbing a knife and cutting free Alaric and Draco. "Sich beeilen! Let's go."

Alaric stumbled clumsily to his feet, managing not to lose his balance. He helped Draco up, taking most of the young Private's weight as they both limped out after Ulrich.

Ulrich put a finger to his lips before motioning to a jeep. He ran forward and into the vehicle, hot wiring it and cursing each time he got electrocuted. Alaric and Draco followed suit, climbing into the back and picking up a pistol and rifle. Alaric, naturally, took the rifle, handing the pistol to Draco. The nineteen year old made a face of distaste, but loaded the pistol.

Leo hated people sometimes. He shoved the two soldiers away from each other, "That's a week of cleaning vehicles for you both! Now get to work!" he snapped, glaring at the both of them as they gave a chorus of "Yes, Corporal" and went on their way.

Corporal Vanders took a deep breath before heading back to his prisoners. Or, the rope that held his former prisoners. Leo blinked, "Well fuck." He loaded his M1 Garand, running out and scowling as he heard a jeep roar to life. He aimed and fired repeatedly at the jeep carrying the three escaping Germans.

Alaric ducked, letting out a groan when his shoulder was clipped by a bullet. He returned fire on the American, smiling as he saw the Corporal hit the ground once a bullet entered his leg.

Draco smiled as they finally got out of the American's range. So far, so good.


	5. Chapter 5

"Son of a bitch."

Leo was sitting on the ground with his back against a tank, continuing to curse as he wrapped up his wounded leg. Those three Germans had slipped away from right underneath him. "Damn good for nothing Nazis. I swear, I'll kill every last one of them," he growled to himself, getting shakily to his feet.

Misha jogged over to the American, "Okay, bastard Yank?" he asked, glancing at the entrance of the camp where the stolen jeep had driven out of.

"Oh go to hell," Leo snapped, snatching a gun and hobbling off to a truck that was sending reinforcements out to the front line. The corporal climbed aboard, giving a small mock salute to Misha as the truck drove off.

The Russian shook his head, hoping the annoying American would come back unscathed. Misha sighed and grabbed a bottle of Vodka, pulling his fur hat off of his head before sitting down on a crate of ammo, motioning for the young British Private he had met earlier to sit beside him. "Private Niels, yes? Come, sit."

Stephan wiped some of the mud and oil off of his face, sitting down beside Misha with a groan, "I fucking 'ate Americans."

Misha laughed, clapping Stephan on the back, "Do not mind Leo. He always has stick up ass, eh? He good soldier but bossy. Very bossy. Vodka?" He offered the young Brit a drink.

Stephan smiled, taking a quick swig of the drink before coughing, the taste stronger than he had expected, "Thanks, Misha."

"No problem. How old are you?" Misha asked curiously, studying the young Private beside him.

"Eighteen, sir."

"Ah, you are just boy," the Russian commented with a sigh, shaking his head a bit, "Shame. Shame war takes boys from families. You should be on date with girl, not fighting in war. And 'sir'? I am not Leo. I not have stick up ass. Call me Misha, or Bear," he said with a smile.

The British teen scowled, before slumping a bit, "Yeah, you don't 'ave to tell me twice. I ain't got a girl to go home to. Do you?"

A warm almost mushy smile flashed across Misha's face, "Yes. Very beautiful woman." He pulled out a picture from his jacket, holding it out in front of Stephan. The picture was of a beautiful young woman with long brown curly hair and bright green eyes. She was smiling, looking back at the camera.

Stephan smiled, "What did you do to get 'er?" he teased, handing the picture back.

Misha laughed, "I ask myself everyday what I do to get beautiful woman like my Rosie. I love her and she loves me. I make her my wife when I return, she promised she wait for me. Strong love we have. I know it shall last."

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o

Draco grinned widely, letting out a laugh of pure relief. They were safe. He closed his eyes, that happy smile still on his young face. Alaric smirked a bit at Draco, his arm stinging a bit but he leaned forward to check on Ulrich, noting that the German Commander had gotten shot in the arm, "Do you want me to drive?"

"Nein," Ulrich snapped angrily, still focusing on the road and barely noticing the two men with him. The German commander was in a pissy mood. Their raid had ended in failure, and Ulrich was not looking forward to talking with the generals back at their base camp.

Alaric put his hands up in surrender once Ulrich snapped at him, and he sat back down beside Draco, pulling a cigarette and lighting it immediately. Draco fidgeted a bit, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw their base camp come into view.

The private slowly slid out of the vehicle, trying not to put too much weight on his torn leg. A couple of medics came over to help Alaric and Draco while Ulrich was immediately called to the General's tent.

Ulrich took a deep breath. He wasn't fearful of his punishment, no, he was more afraid of the disgrace he'd bring upon himself after this. All he wanted to do was make his family proud of him. The German held his head high as he entered the tent.

Alaric felt awful. He watched Ulrich disappear into the tent before pushing away from the medics. He began to pace, barely noticing Draco as the young man approached. How could he be so stupid? He nearly got Draco and Ulrich killed all because he had gotten shot.

"Alaric?"

Draco's voice snapped Alaric out of his thoughts. "Draco. You all right?"

The nineteen year old nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine." He gave a small smile, his eyes flickering over to where Ulrich had disappeared, "You think he'll be okay?" he asked with worry.

Alaric turned Draco away from the tent, "He will be fine," he reassured him, saying that for both of their sakes.

Draco gave a small smile, nodding. He looked up as Ulrich came back out of the tent. His breath hitched as he noticed that Ulrich's commander patch had been torn away and that the man was bloody and beaten.

Ulrich took a shaky breath, wiping the blood from his nose and lightly touching his sure to be black eye before walking over to his two friends, "I apologize for my failure," he murmured.

Alaric shook his head almost in disbelief, "It's not your fault." He swallowed almost nervously when he noticed Ulrich's patch was missing, "They took away your rank…"

Ulrich nodded, "Yes. I am now the same rank as Draco." He shrugged nonchalantly, "But it's okay. I failed and got what I deserved."

Draco frowned a bit, resting a hand on Ulrich's shoulder in comfort.

"Alaric! Kommen hier!" A General with a burly mustache called out of the tent Ulrich had been in just moments before.

Alaric furrowed his eyebrows before walking over to the tent and going inside.

Draco and Ulrich exchanged glances before the former commander spoke, "He's probably being promoted."

Draco gave a small nod, "Yeah."

"Good. Alaric, he's a good soldier. He deserves it."

"Sir, when do you think we'll be able to go home?" Draco asked, fixing his clothes and bending down to quickly pick up a picture that had fallen out of his pocket. His face flushed a bit, and he hoped that Ulrich hadn't seen the picture.

Ulrich raised an eyebrow, catching sight of the handsome brown haired blue eyed young man on the picture, "Who is that?" he asked curiously.

Draco mumbled something, his face turning a bright red.

"Boyfriend?"

Drake's head snapped up in shock as he looked pleadingly at the calm face of the taller soldier, "Ulrich, I…well…not anymore. We broke up. Please don't tell!"

Ulrich gave a small chuckle as he looked back at Draco, noting how young and innocent this boy looked, "I have no problem with homosexuality. Your secret is safe with me."

Draco smiled in relief, "Thanks, s- I mean…Ulrich."

The former commander grinned a bit, "Just don't be going and telling anyone else."

Alaric walked out of the tent, a shocked and nervous look on his face as he hurried back over to Draco and Ulrich, the new Commander patch sown onto the sleeve of his uniform.

Draco blinked before smiling, "Congrats, Sir."

Alaric made a face, "No need for that. Just…call me Alaric. They told me my punishment would be the same as yours, Ulrich, if I screwed up. They're sending me out to the front line. There's a skirmish on the eastern front between us and the Americans. Apparently we're suffering quite a bit." Alaric pulled his helmet on, bidding farewell to the other two Germans before walking off.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

The Front Line was a bloody and gory sight to see. Leonardo was racing around to try and help the wounded, unable to do much but drag them away from the Nazi's firing range. The Corporal was bleeding slightly from a shoulder wound, but it didn't stop him from loading a grenade launcher and running towards the German bunkers. He fired into the German ranks, watching with a smug smile as bodies flew from the bunker. Leo was too caught in the moment to notice someone approaching him. His eyes widened as a grenade landed near his feet. His eyes widened and he jumped away at the last second, covering his head as the grenade exploded.

Leo flew a couple of feet away, feeling the shards dig into his arms and legs as he landed, his ears ringing as he tried to figure out his surroundings.

Alaric was standing above Leo, a murderous look in his eyes as he pressed his gun underneath the Corporal's chin, "I kill you now," he stated in broken English.

Leo stiffened, recognizing Alaric after a couple of moments. He wasn't afraid to die. Dying would get him out of this place. He had no one to go home to anyway. "Go to hell."

Alaric gave a small smirk, "Nein. I not kill you yet." He hefted the American to his feet before slamming his body against an overturned tank.

Leonardo let out a loud yelp, kicking weakly at the German's gut. Everything was on fire thanks to the shrapnel due to the grenade.

Alaric let out a groan before slamming a fist into Leo's face.

The Corporal's world went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco paced a bit, biting his nails as he stared at the entrance of their camp. He was worried sick about Alaric. He knew that his friend was more than capable of taking care of himself, but the Front Line was always a dangerous place. Even the most experienced of soldiers were killed by one ricocheted or stray bullet.

Ulrich sighed, the young Private even making him nervous for Alaric, "Draco, sit. Alaric will be fine."

Draco jumped, startled by Ulrich's voice, "Huh? Oh. Yeah, you're right." He sat down beside Ulrich, "You think he'll be okay?"

"Alaric is a crazy son of a bitch. Of course he'll be okay."

As if on cue, Alaric walked in, dragging an unconscious figure off to the side of camp. He found a post before tying the slumped body to it.

Ulrich blinked, studying the beaten soldier Alaric had dragged in before a small smile crossed his face and he let out a laugh, "That son of a bitch caught the Corporal."

Draco grinned as well, jogging over to Alaric and Leo with Ulrich right behind him. "Damn, Alaric."

Leo groaned, forcing himself out of the darkness he was currently in. His head hurt like hell and his arms and legs were still stinging from the shrapnel. He looked up at the three familiar men standing above him, picking up a bit of their conversation due to the little German he knew.

Alaric gave a devilish smile, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before shoving it into Leo's mouth, closing his hand over the American's mouth, "Swallow it, bitch," he ordered in English with a slight German accent.

Leo's eyes widened as the ashes burned on his tongue. He wasn't able to move away at all, due to how tight he was wrapped to the post.

Alaric snickered, removing his hand from the other man's mouth, "What is your name, American?"

Leonardo spat out the cigarette, coughing immediately and swallowing a bit. He had no reason to lie; after all, his name was on his dog tags hanging around his neck, "Corporal Leonardo Vanders," he responded somewhat smugly.

Alaric exchanged a glance with Ulrich, "I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, Corporal, but well, it's not. I bring you here to kill you," he smirked, lighting another cigarette.

Draco made his hand into a fist and slammed it into Leo's face, yelling in German about how it was all Leo's fault that Ulrich had lost his rank.

Leo's head snapped to the side, and he let out a yelp, blinking to clear his dotted vision. Alaric sighed, "Where are the locations of your camps around Berlin?" he asked, grabbing a towel.

Draco rolled his eyes, "You start with basic questions, Alaric," he huffed in a total teenage attitude. He pulled out a knife, beginning to dig it into Leo's shoulder. He smiled and attempted to use what very, very, little English he knew to speak, "Plan of attack?"

Leo gritted his teeth to stop a noise of pain from escaping his mouth, and he just blew out the breath he had been holding, smiling crookedly at Draco, "Sorry, what was that? No comprendo, dicko."

Ulrich slammed a fist into the Corporal's gut as Draco punched him in the face. Leo's nose immediately started bleeding and he let out a groan of pain. Alaric, however, had always been more of a sympathetic man, and used the towel to stop the bleeding. Draco's lip curled in a dissatisfied sneer, "Why are you helping him?"

"There's no point in having him bleed all over the place," Alaric mumbled lamely in reply.

Leonardo jerked his head away from Alaric and the towel, "Go to hell! All of you!" he snarled, glaring at Ulrich when he noticed the former Commander was smiling. "You Nazis are worthless. Killing people like nobody's business," he spat.

Draco narrowed his eyes. _Think, Draco. You've been waiting to use these lines!_ "We're fighting for the continuance of our perfect r-race!" he snapped in reply.

Leo laughed out loud listening to the young German Private, "Yeah, is that what they're feeding you guys now and days?"

Alaric was not going to stand for this. He slammed a fist into the American's rib cage, "Enough! We fight to purge our Country of those rats. If your country was infested, you'd want to be rid of them all too!" This had always been a touchy subject for him. Gabriele was his love. He still wrote to her, every once and a while, with hopes that she was still alive somewhere in one of those concentration camps. Gabriele had always been such a strong young woman, and Alaric had no doubt that she would've found a way to survive.

The wind was knocked out of Leo when his ribcage was hit, and he fought to regain his breath. Draco was the one that looked lost. Rats from their country? The nineteen year old didn't really think the rodents were _that_ bad. Sure, they were annoying at times but- wait. Was the American talking about _people_? That couldn't be right. Ulrich nudged Draco out of his inner ramblings, noticing a couple of soldiers running into their camp yelling about an attack.

Leonardo smiled, hearing the roar of tanks approaching the German encampment. He knew that his Russian friend would notice that he hadn't been back with the other soldiers and that Leo was way too cocky to get killed in a small skirmish, if that made any sense.

"Ey, you Nazi scum! Misha no like when you assholes take his friends, yes?" The Russian laughed, a bottle of Vodka in one hand as he used the other to fire the tank.

Alaric and Ulrich immediately sprang into action. "Draco!" Alaric snapped, "Leave him! We have to evacuate the camp!"

"But we should kill him!"

"Draco, now! We're going to be killed! He's not worth it!"

The Private glared at Leonardo before grabbing his gun and racing off after his two friends.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco didn't know how he always managed to get into the worst possible situations. He was supposed to go on a simple patrol with a couple of other soldiers. After they had lost than encampment to the Allies, the German leaders had doubled the defenses around their remaining camps.

It was meant to be an easy little stroll on the outskirts of where they were camped. Yet here Draco was, blindfolded with a gun to his back and being led into the Allies' camp. His entire patrol had been shot down around him, while he had hit the ground covering his head. He had received a beating from the soldiers that had captured him, and he vaguely wondered why he was even alive at the moment.

Corporal Vanders hated prisoner duty. He saw it as babysitting terror children. Germans weren't worth his time at all. The only thing that changed his mind was when Draco was shoved to his knees in front of him. Leo blinked for a moment, not one for revenge, but this was just too tempting.

Draco was panicking. He couldn't see what was going on thanks to the blindfold covering his eyes. His breathing quickened as he was shoved to his knees, tugging at his bound hands behind his back. Leo crouched down in front of the young German, pulling off the blindfold.

Draco's scared green eyes stared right into the hardened ones of the American Corporal's. The nineteen year old visibly flinched away from Leo, as of expecting a blow from the enemy soldier, "W-What do you want from me?" he stammered out in English, his German accent very thick on his words.

Leo sighed, standing up and looking down upon Draco, "Absolutely nothing." He ran a hand through his own hair, "You have nothing I need or want. You don't even know why you're fighting in this war."

The young German immediately got defensive, "I know why I fight!"

"Oh really? So you're a fan of killing children too? You're pathetic and definitely not worthy enough to live."

Draco's eyes widened, "We don't k-kill children!"

"So tell me about those concentration camps then, Private Draco," Leo sneered, glaring down at Draco.

"Concentration camps?"

"Yes. Concentration camps. Where you put innocent families and have them gassed. Sound like a good cause?"

Draco paled, his heart sinking. He didn't want to do that. He didn't want to hurt innocent people.

"Anyway, you're not worth my time, kiddo." Leo loaded a single bullet into his pistol before pausing and examining the German Private. The kid actually looked regretful. Leonardo had a kind heart and couldn't help but feel sorry for Draco. So, the Corporal set down his gun, "I won't kill you."

Draco's eyes widened and he looked up at Leo with a bit of hope.

"I'm sending you to the Russian's POW camp." Yeah, that was probably worse than dying.

Draco's shoulders slumped but he kept his voice from wavering, "I die there, hmm?"

"Yeah, you probably will." Leo hefted Draco to his feet, tying the blindfold back around the young man's eyes before walking him out. "Misha?"

"Yes, bastard Yank?" the burly Russian was speaking to a British redheaded soldier Leo recognized as Private Niels.

"Wanna escort this young German to the jeep taking prisoners to your camp?"

"It will be Vlad and I's pleasure, Yankee." As if on cue, the huge black dog came bounding over to Misha, panting.

Draco swallowed in fear, his legs trembling a bit as he began to walk, somewhat shoved by Leo. Leo snapped his fingers at Stephan to take up the rear as he lit a cigarette and followed Draco and Misha.

Stephan got up and followed after the American, carefully avoiding any mud puddles as he walked. Not even a minute later he had a hand around his mouth and a knife to his neck. Before he could even try and fight back, he was smacked over the head, unconscious, and being dragged into the shadows.

Leo took a drag of his cigarette, the German Private not moving quickly enough for his liking, "Hey, Mishamigo, why don't you let Vlad g-" he was cut off when a knife pressed against his neck and he was dragged backwards. The corporal immediately began to struggle, only to be head butted in the head by that oh so familiar face of that annoying twenty six year old German commander, Alaric.

Alaric dropped Leo once he knew the American was dazed and raced forward, slamming a fist into Misha's face and jamming his knife into Vlad's back.

Draco didn't know what was going on, sighing in relief when his bonds and his blindfold was removed and he saw the face of his friend, "Alaric!"

Misha stumbled backwards, crashing into some boxes and falling over. Vlad let out a high pitched whine, falling onto his side and letting out soft whimpers before going still, the knife cutting clean through his spine.

Alaric grabbed onto Draco, yanking his friend towards the exit, "Let's go! We have to hurry!" Alaric had parked a jeep not too far from the allies' base.

Leo stumbled to his feet, grabbing his rifle, "Stephan! After them!" he ordered, running after Alaric and Draco, firing repeatedly.

Stephan slowly came to, blinking his blue eyes a couple times before shakily getting to his feet and stumbling after Leonardo.

Alaric was racing towards the jeep, breathing hard as he tried to make sure that Draco was keeping up. He could see the jeep coming into sight, "Almost there, Dra-" he cut off and let out a loud cry when a bullet hit his side, going straight through. He hit the ground, letting out an "oomf" as the wind was knocked out of him.

Draco's eyes widened in fear, and he stopped to run back for Alaric, "Alaric! Get up! We have to g-go!"

Leo lit a cigarette, completely pissed off as he just walked straight towards the two figures. Stephan was right behind the Corporal, his gun up as if he was worried the two Germans were going to try something. Draco swallowed nervously, pulling out Alaric's gun and firing at Leo and Stephan.

Leo hit the ground, hissing in pain when a bullet skimmed his shoulder. He got back up to his feet when he heard the empty click of the enemies' gun, brushing himself off as he strolled back over to the figures of Draco and Alaric, his gaze flickering up to the jeep parked about twenty feet away.

"Valiant attempt, Commander Alaric. Though you probably should've just waited until Draco was loaded on the POW jeep. Would've been much easier to retrieve him."

Alaric gave a tight smile, holding his side as Draco attempted to wrap it, "What can I say, sir, I acted on impulse."

Leo smirked, loading a couple of bullets in his pistol before pulling out a grenade and tossing it into the jeep before turning back to the Germans, "Well. Don't say I never did anything for you." He tossed the loaded pistol down to Alaric, ignoring the questioning look from Stephan, who thought this American was insane. "Walk back to your camp. Maybe you'll make it back alive." He glanced at the jeep as it exploded, giving a mock salute to Alaric and Draco as he turned around and walked back towards the Ally encampment, Stephan following nervously.

Alaric blinked and sat up with a groan, watching the American and British Private leave before turning to Draco, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Draco replied, helping Alaric stand up.

"Well...we may as well start walking..." Alaric gave a small smile.

Draco nodded, managing a weak smile in return. After about ten minutes of silence, the nineteen year old cleared his throat, "Hey, Alaric? Is it true? What they say about the camps?" he asked, his voice sounding young and innocent.

Alaric stiffened, waiting a bit before responding, "Yes."

"We really kill women and children? Entire families? Alaric, why would we do something like that? I don't understand."

"We do it because Mr. Hitler orders it, Draco. It's not our place to question his orders."

Draco went silent after that, lost in his own thoughts. He eventually found the courage to speak, "Alaric...can I tell you something?"

"Of course," Alaric murmured, turning to look at Draco with a raised eyebrow.

"I um...I'm...well...gay."

Alaric immediately shoved Draco to the ground, his face a perfect picture of disbelief, "What? Draco, how could you...I don't...god, I should just kill you right now, you know that?"

Draco looked confused and hurt, "Fine...I'm just going to be killed anyway," he whispered, looking up at his friend.

Alaric sighed, apologizing quietly as he helped Draco to his feet, "I...just don't let anyone else find out about it, okay?"

"I won't...but, Alaric? Do you think we could leave the army? I don't want to be responsible for the killing of innocent people."

"Draco, we can't just leave."

"Yes, we can!"

"Then we'd be hunted down and killed!" Alaric snarled, turning to glare at Draco before continuing his trudge back to the German encampment.

Draco sighed in defeat, looking down at the ground as he followed Alaric back to camp.


	8. Chapter 8

Alaric wasn't much of a pilot. He had been required to take some pilot lessons after he had gotten out of the Hitler Youth, but that's about all. Alaric couldn't help but feel like this entire situation he was in was his fault. If only he had insisted that he wasn't ready to go and fly a plane. If only he had tried to go alone instead of with Ulrich as his gunner. Ulrich wouldn't be sitting in front of him, dying, and Alaric would be talking and laughing with him and Draco.

They had been asked to go fly with the other pilots, since many of their pilots had been killed in the past couple of months of war. Alaric and Ulrich had been elected to take a plane up with the others, to try and stop the Americans from getting supplies in to their allies. The two Nazis had been flying just fine, managing to shoot down an American plane right before they got hit.

"Alaric! We're hit!" Ulrich was behind Alaric as the gunner, gripping the seat as Alaric lost control of the plane.

"Hang on!" Alaric yelled back to Ulrich, unable to do much as his plane spiraled out of control down towards some trees. The American plane he had shot down had also crashed into these trees. Alaric put his hands up as the plane hit the trees, the cockpit glass shields cracking and shattering as branches broke through it. Eventually the plane hit solid ground.

Alaric blinked his eyes open not moments later, the plane on its side with both the wings torn off. The German commander crawled out from the wreckage, "Ulrich?" he called, unprepared for the sight he'd see as he turned to look for his friend. "Oh god."

Ulrich was coughing up blood, a large branch impaled through his chest as he fought for air. The branch was staunching his internal bleeding; otherwise he would've been dead on impact.

"Ulrich!" Alaric scrambled forward, cupping his friend's cheek so he could look him in the eyes, "Hey, look at me! You're going to be okay, I promise." He already had tears in his eyes, his heart clenching with sadness. There was nothing he could do for his friend except reassure him.

Ulrich gave a weak smile, his teeth stained by the blood bubbling up from his throat, "Nein, Alaric. It will be okay when I die. It will be honorably. M-My parents shall be proud of m-me."

Alaric shook his head, "Nein. Nein. I will save you," he whispered, trying to grab anything that would stop the blood flow from Ulrich's chest.

"Alaric," Ulrich choked out, "You m-must take care of Draco, yes? He's a kid that wants to impress. Be good and watch out for him."

"I will, Ulrich. I swear."

"Good. H-He has a good heart and so do you."

Alaric hung his head, clutching Ulrich's hand until it went limp in his grasp. He let out a choked sob, biting his own fist to stop his tears as he shakily stood up.

"I'm sorry."

Alaric jumped at the sound of a second voice, spinning around with a hand to his chest. "Shit," he breathed out, staring at the familiar figure with a look of shock and confusion. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Don't you think I would've killed you already?" Leo gave a crooked smile, lighting a cigarette and offering one to Alaric, his gaze flickering over to look at the body of Ulrich, "Sorry about your friend."

Alaric shook his head at the offer of a cigarette before narrowing his eyes, thinking of the English terms he knew, "Shut up."

Leo put his hands up in surrender, backing away a step, "My bad," he mumbled, glancing back over his shoulder at his own plane. His pilot was dead, hanging out the side of the plane caught in the trees. Leonardo had been the gunner for a friend of his who had been trying to fend off the attacking Germans. Leo had hit his head, knocking out for a bit before coming to and falling out of the tree. He had then seen Alaric about fifty meters away and had walked over.

Now, Leo wasn't an idiot. He may be very cocky at times, but he was never suicidal. Unless of course he was trying to protect someone he cared for. But Leo knew the look in Draco's eyes, the look of pure and honest to God confusion. The kid wasn't a murderer. He didn't even know what he was fighting for. So, Leo had a plan. He respected Alaric. Alaric risked his life to go and save Draco in the middle of an Allied camp.

"So, Commander Alaric…uhm….is anyone coming for you?" Leo took a drag of his cigarette, glancing up at the patches of sky visible through the trees.

"Nein. I return, I will most likely be killed. I have failed."

"You failed because you were fucking shot out of the sky."

"Yes, Corporal. I have failed my mission and have gotten my comrade killed." Alaric glanced over at the lifeless body of Ulrich.

"Wow. That's fucking insane. Jesus, Alaric, I don't understand why you even bother to fight for those people."

Alaric glared, opening his mouth then closing it when he couldn't think of a persuading reason. "I fight for my family," he eventually said.

Leo turned to look at the German, "Can I offer you a deal, Alaric? My team is already on their way to rescue me."

Alaric's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "What could you possibly have that I would want?"

Leo gave a lopsided smile, "A new life."

Alaric paused, blinking in somewhat disbelief. How could one soldier give him a new life? And would Draco be able to come along? He was never going to forget his promise to Ulrich. "How so?"

"I thought long and hard about this, _Commander_, so I guess it will be my fault entirely if you stab me in the back with my offer." Leo took a deep breath, turning to look at Alaric, "In exchange for some information on German camps, and _any_ info on Hitler, I can give you a new last name and an American Uniform."

Alaric looked nervous, "If the Germans find out that I left, I'd be marked as a traitor and killed on the spot…" he said hesitantly, considering the American's offer.

"Aren't you going to be 'punished' if you return anyway?"

The German Commander ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace. He could finally get away from the Nazis. This was his chance to save his girlfriend, if she was alive, from the concentration camps. He would finally have a reason to fight in this war instead of try to bring honor to the Kuleschow name. "And Draco, may he come to?"

Leo lit a second cigarette when he finished with his first, "The kid?" He thought for a moment, "Yeah, why not. You guys would be part of my division. You'll have to apologize to my friend for killing his dog though," he mused with a smirk.

Alaric finally gave a small nod, "Okay. We're in."


	9. Chapter 9

"We're _leaving_?"

Alaric hushed Draco, "Fucking hell, Draco. Keep your voice down."

Draco glanced around nervously for a moment before looking back at Alaric, "Are you sure we can trust him?"

"I don't know, Draco, but he's getting us away from all this. He gave me a flare gun and directions to the camp. When we get there, he'll give us new uniforms and a second chance. Don't you want to start over?"

Draco thought for a moment before nodding, "Yeah. Yeah, I do…" he whispered, a happy smile lighting up his young face, "We don't have to be responsible for killing innocent people anymore! Is Ulrich coming too?" he asked excitedly, glancing around for their other friend.

A multitude of emotions flickered across Alaric's face, "Ulrich's not coming, Draco."

Draco looked back at Alaric, confusion etched on his face, "What? Why not?"

"Ulrich's dead," Alaric stated, finding no way to say those two words nicely. And he also wasn't one to sugarcoat these kind of things.

Draco's face fell as tears immediately welled up in his green eyes, "What?" he whimpered, taking a deep breath to calm the sobs that threatened to come from his throat.

Alaric bit his lip, awkwardly pulling Draco into a hug, "Hey, it's going to be okay. Ulrich's at peace now, okay?"

Draco buried himself into Alaric, taking shaky breaths to calm himself down before he pulled away, "Okay. L-Let's just get to the American camp."

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o

Corporal August Dorian is a twenty year old man from London, England. His hair was a pale blonde, and he had light green eyes to accompany a long scar that stretched from his hair down to his chin on the left side of his face. His left eye was useless, to say the least, since he had been blinded in a knife fight from when he had been a Private. The British Corporal had stubbornly refused to return home after this had happened, stating that he was fine and that he would not be hindered in any way during the war. He even practiced and showed up some of the expert marksmen in the army. The generals let him alone after that.

One could only ask why Corporal Dorian would _not_ want to return to London. He had a chance to leave Germany and get out of this bloody war. The fact was, August didn't have any home to return to. The Germans had bombed London and destroyed his house and everything precious inside of it. His beautiful wife, Annie, and his three month old son, Maxwell, were killed. Taken from him in one blink of an eye. So, August would not return home until Britain was pulled out of this war.

The Brit was currently sitting on the hood of a jeep, a cigarette between his lips as he absently listened to an American Corporal's wild story. August had been asked to join Corporal Leonardo Vanders' division. He had agreed and moved over to the encampment to join the group he had been assigned to.

"Needless to say, I cleared out that German bunker in less than thirty seconds." Leo grinned, standing on top of the jeep Corporal Dorian had been leaning against. The American bowed as his little ragtag audience clapped before moving on their way. Leonardo jumped off of the jeep, lighting a cigarette and smiling innocently at August, who was giving him an unamused look. "Come off it, Aug. That shit was real." Misha rolled his eyes when he heard that line.

"Sure. As if I haven't heard that one before," August smirked, blowing out some smoke. He fixed his uniform, standing up straight as he chuckled at the other Corporal.

Leo grinned a bit before taking a drag of his cigarette before dropping it and stomping on it, looking at the entrance of the camp. He had given Alaric specific instructions about what he was supposed to do. He gave him a flare gun for a reason, but Leo didn't want to alert everyone. The American Corporal was getting impatient, glancing over at Misha and the newest member of his group, a young Canadian Private by the name of Drew McGuire.

Leo didn't know much about the young nineteen year old; he just knew that the kid looked almost secretive. With his brown hair and clear blue eyes, Drew probably got away with a lot. Drew seemed nice enough, shy yet friendly and always willing to help whenever he was needed.

Drew McGuire was from a small town in Ontario, and he had an older sister named Sarah. She was twenty-three and currently working as a nurse here in the encampment. One would be able to tell immediately that the two were siblings, dazzling people with their light brown hair and pretty blue eyes. Leo had even caught himself staring at Sarah from time to time. He would've loved to get to know her, yet the troops had a strict no fraternizing or fornicating with the Nurses policy. Damn those policies.

The American Corporal was jerked out of his thoughts when he saw the flare. He smiled and grabbed the two American uniforms he had handy and began to make his way towards the entrance of the camp.

Alaric tossed the now empty flare gun to the side as he strolled ahead of Draco, catching sight of Leonardo. Draco peeked over Alaric's shoulder, smiling a bit as he saw where his new home would be. This was it. He was finally going to have a brand new start and a great reason to fight.

Leo waited beside the entrance, motioning for the two Germans to follow him inside the tent, "Hey, kid. Welcome to your new camp." He smirked at Draco, who gave a shy smile in return. "All right. Here are the rules. No talking in German. Especially when you're around other soldiers. They'll kick your ass, even if you have an American uniform on. Now if you guys are alone, then sure. Speak German to your heart's content."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, trying to get what the American was saying. He had a bit of difficulty with the English language, especially speaking it. His accent was thick and it took people a bit to try and understand him. Alaric turned to look at Draco, giving him a small reassuring smile as if saying "Hey, I'll help you with the words". Draco instantly felt calmer.

Leo handed them the uniforms and the standard military issued grenades and guns, "Okay. So, if anyone asks, Alaric, you're Private Two Alaric Smith."

"Bump me down a rank, why don't you," Alaric smirked.

"I ain't a Sergeant, Alaric, I can't give you what ya want. The best I can do for ya is make you a Private Two. Now, Draco, you're Private Draco Johnson. Sound good?"

Draco nodded eagerly, picking up the weapons after changing into his new uniform. "We safe here?"

Leo gave a rare genuine smile, "Yeah, kid, you're safe here." The Corporal ran a hand through his hair, waiting until Alaric had changed before he led the two former Nazis out of the tent and over to the rest of the group.

August looked up from where he had been sitting, raising an eyebrow at the two soldiers behind Leo. Misha's eyes narrowed as he recognized the two Germans from earlier in the week. Drew just smiled politely, meeting Draco's eyes for a second before shyly looking away.

Draco swallowed nervously, smiling hesitantly as the Canadian Private met his eyes. He was jolted from his stare by an elbow from Alaric, who nodded to each of the men as Leo named them off.

"Well, we have been requested into one of the cities not too far from here. Apparently, the town is filled with Jews trying to escape. They need us there in the ghettos to help them out. We leave tomorrow morning. Get your shit ready before then. I hate being late." With that, Leo walked off.

Alaric raised an eyebrow before sitting beside Misha hesitantly, "Uhm…Misha, right?"

"Don't speak to me. You kill my dog."

"Right…uh…sorry 'bout that."


End file.
